


Don't Get too Close (But Don't Go too Far)

by veleda_k



Category: White Collar
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-25 00:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/633106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veleda_k/pseuds/veleda_k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After breaking her ankle, Sara wants to get the whole healing process over with as little fuss as possible. Neal has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Get too Close (But Don't Go too Far)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sahiya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/gifts).



> Written for Sahiya, for Fandom Stocking on DW.

Sara learned early on that the two most important traits for a top rate insurance investigator were patience and tenacity. The investigations took time and largely involved following paper trails and waiting for her targets to make mistakes. (They usually did.) There were forms to fill out, reports to write, and procedures to follow.

But there was also the chase, thrilling and challenging, worth every scrap of perfectly filed paper. And sometimes, rarely, that chase was literal. Sara wouldn't have wanted to spend all of her time running down criminals, but it was immensely satisfying to do it every once in a while.

Of course, sometimes there were consequences. True, she had recovered a 14th century Russian icon, but in the process she had broken her ankle and ruined a pair of Luis Vuitton pumps. The ankle would take at least six weeks to heal, and the shoes were beyond saving. Sara resigned herself to weeks of indignity, forgoing her usual activities, and fiddling with crutches.

Her coworkers got her a get-well-soon card, but they knew her well enough to know that she'd want as little fuss as possible, so other than holding doors open for her without comment, her injury was barely acknowledged.

Sara wanted to get the whole messy healing process over without drama or attention, so when Neal showed up at her apartment with a smile and an armful of paper bags, she opened the door without unlocking the chain. “Go away.”

His grin didn't diminish. “Is that any way to speak to a man who comes bearing sushi and _To Have and Have Not_?

She never should have told him about her love for Lauren Bacall. Sara realized with some consternation that she hadn't eaten since she had a bagel for breakfast. And Neal did have a special talent for finding the best restaurants. “Oh, come in,” she conceded. 

Neal entered and set his bags on the counter. “I also brought _Key Largo_ he said, pulling out some DVDs, “as well as a few other choices. You're convalescing, so you get to pick.”

Sara frowned. “I have work to do.”

Neal looked around at the files spread out on the table. “You've gone into work almost every day since you've been injured, haven't you?”

Sara sat down on the couch and held back a groan. Clearly it was time for more painkillers, but she didn't want Neal to guess how much it hurt. “So what if I have?”

Neal sighed. “Didn't anybody tell you about R.I.C.E.? The 'R' stands for 'Rest,' not 'work yourself to the bone, like you always do.'”

“I have a job to do, I can't just put it on hold. Besides, I hate having nothing to do.”

Neal shook his head. “You know that if it were me, I'd be milking every day of worker's comp time that I could.”

Sara doubted that. For one thing, however much he might complain about the van, or the coffee, or Peter's taste in suits, Neal enjoyed his job as much as she enjoyed hers. Also, Neal hated being bored. The thought of him lounging around in his apartment for weeks on end was both ludicrous and a recipe for disaster.

Her disbelief must have shown on her face, because Neal waved his statement away. “The point is that _you_ should be resting. Hang on, I'll get you a footrest.”

Sara stifled a sigh. This was exactly what she hadn't wanted: someone coming in and making a big show of taking care of her. “I don't need your help, Caffrey. I was doing just fine on my own.” She regretted the words once they were out of her mouth. She fully meant the sentiment, but she hadn't intended to sound that harsh.

Neal didn't appear offended though. Instead, he looked at her seriously. “Of course you were doing fine. I know you can take care of yourself, Sara. That doesn't mean you should always have to.”

Sara wasn't sure what to say to that. She allowed Neal to move her footrest under her leg and get her some ice. “Do you want to eat first, or watch the movie?” he asked. “Or both at once?”

“Both at once,” Sara said after thinking it over. “And I want _To Have and Have Not_.” Neal nodded and put two plates together before popping the movie into the DVD player.

Eating on trays in front of the TV wasn't the most sophisticated way to spend an evening, but Sara found she didn't mind. Neal's presence beside her was solid and warm, and suddenly she was glad he was there. Until that moment she hadn't realized how exhausting the past few days had been, trying to do everything on her own.

Sara shifted, moving a little closer to Neal. She wasn't cuddling, definitely not, simply putting a little less distance between them. Still, when he put his arm around her shoulder, she didn't move away. 

The movie ended the way it always did, with Bogart and Bacall walking away into the figurative sunset. Sara glanced at Neal. “You have a ridiculous expression on your face,” she told him.

He turned to her, still beaming. “I can't help it, I love a happy ending.”

“Even if you've seen it happen a dozen times?”

“Even then.” He got to his feet and gathered up the dishes. Sara started to do likewise, but Neal stopped her. “You're not getting up,” he said firmly.

Sara raised an eyebrow. “Since when do I take orders from you?” 

“It's not an order, it's a strong suggestion. I strongly suggest that you continue to rest your ankle while I clean up.”

Sara thought about protesting further, but she truly didn't want to get up. She shrugged. “Be my guest.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The sound of Neal rinsing plates and loading the dishwasher somehow made for pleasant background noise.

When she opened her eyes, Neal was standing over her, a glass of water in one hand and two pain pills in the other. “I thought you might want some more. You've been looking uncomfortable.”

Sara's first instinct was to insist that she was fine, but she stopped herself. Her ankle did hurt, and she did want the pills. “Thank you,” she said, glad it didn't come out sounding resentful. 

Neal sat down beside her again and lightly covered her hand with his own. He started rubbing little circles across her hand with his thumb. “You don't like feeling vulnerable, I've noticed.”

She met his eyes. “Do you?”

He ducked his head briefly, breaking away from her gaze. “Fair point. We're quite a pair.”

She smiled at him, just a little. “We do all right.”

He kissed her lightly before standing up. “I'll leave you in peace. But before I go, I have one last surprise.” He pulled a plain cardboard box out of one of the bags he had brought and handed it to her.

Feeling slightly apprehensive, Sara opened the box. Inside was a pair of black Louis Vuitton pumps, identical to the ones she had ruined. She looked at Neal sharply. “Please tell me you didn't steal these.”

Neal laughed. “No stealing, I promise. And before you can ask your next question, they're not fakes either. I know a guy who knows a guy. I was able to get a deal.”

“Thank you, Neal.” It wasn't the present, exactly. She could afford new shoes on her own, and the ruined pair hadn't been a particular favorite. But he had paid attention, even to something as minor as the state of her footwear, and he had cared. He had spent the entire evening caring, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. “Come over tomorrow evening,” she said before she could change her mind. “Bring _All About Eve_.”

Neal's expression lit up. “It's a date.” He bent down and kissed her once more before gathering up his remaining items and slipping out the door.

Alone again, Sara let out a tired sigh. She still had work to do, but she was comfortably full from dinner and slightly drowsy from the painkillers. It could wait one day longer. 

Maybe tomorrow she would work from home. She had everything she needed, and that way she could stay off her ankle. That would easier.

She looked down at the black pumps. Yes, she was looking forward to tomorrow. And if she didn't want to admit every reason for her anticipation, that was all right. No one was around to ask.


End file.
